


Dirty Laundry side stories

by DaSly fics (i_write_hurt_not_comfort), i_write_hurt_not_comfort



Category: Pandora Hearts, ヴァ二タスの手記 - 望月淳 | Vanitas no Carte | The Case Study of Vanitas - Mochizuki Jun (Manga)
Genre: Children, Dirty laundry au, Drinking, Drug Use, For 2nd story:, Foster Care, Mixed - Freeform, Prequel, Relapse, Side Stories, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Tags to be added, Underage Smoking, Vomiting, brief mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2020-07-27 10:54:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20044825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_write_hurt_not_comfort/pseuds/DaSly%20fics, https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_write_hurt_not_comfort/pseuds/i_write_hurt_not_comfort
Summary: A mix of side stories written for the multi-chapter college AU crossover "Dirty Laundry" - varying requests and lengths, see notes for more.





	1. Flo and Leo

**Author's Note:**

> the first of many, i hope! this was requested by Jack (@bagel_san) on tumblr. Prompt is "Flo and Leo meeting for the first time" - if you have not read Dirty Laundry, i strongly suggest reading that first!  
content warnings: minor swearing, underage smoking, mentions of family death/abuse  
enjoy!
> 
> (disclaimer: i do not own pandora hearts or vanitas no carte)

From the moment he pulled up in their foster mother’s car, and she first laid eyes on him, Flo officially decided that she hated Leo.

For two years, the only people in that house had been her, and her foster parents. Her foster father was rarely there, so it was mostly two of them anyway. Flo liked it like that. She saw no reason for it to change. Sure, she knew they’d foster younger children at some point, but when Flo was 8, she was fairly certain she’d been promised they’d wait a few years. And she was just about able to settle for that compromise.

That was, until last night, when her mother announced she’d be getting an older brother. Supposedly, his parents had passed away – _just barely, _Flo could sympathise with that at least – and for some reason, he’d been somewhat trouble at when he’d last stayed.

Why the _hell _that meant he was coming _here, _Flo had no idea. She just already hated him before he’d even set foot in that house.

Curious, she peered out her bedroom window, on the second floor at the front of the house, and tried to get another solid glimpse of him. The way he carried himself out of the car made her even more resentful. His face was largely covered by a _stupid _pair of glasses, along with the mess of a haircut, which Flo was 90% certain was longer than hers. Alongside that, his clothes were scruffy, and barely presentable.

“Florence! Can you come down here please?” Her mother called from downstairs.

Flo hated it when her mum called her by her actual name. With gritted teeth and clenched teeth, though, she reluctantly obeyed.

Seeing Leo upfront felt even worse. For someone who was supposedly 12 – _two years older _– he was surprisingly short, only a tiny bit taller than Flo herself. But she wasn’t stupid; the aura he radiated felt aggressive, almost, and she could already tell they’d most likely have some nasty arguments in the future.

“This is Leo,” her mother said with a beaming smile. “Leo, this is Florence.”

“Call me Flo,” she corrected, bitterness woven into her words. She flicked her tongue against her front teeth, falling back against the handrail of the stairs; judgementally giving Leo another glance over.

“Would you mind showing Leo which room is his?” her mother asked, before turning her gaze to Leo. “Leo, is there anything in particular you want me to make for dinner tonight?”

“No,” Leo grunted, avoiding all eye contact. “I won’t be hungry.”

Flo frowned. Her foster mother was the nicest lady alive; she couldn’t hurt anyone. So why the _hell _did Leo think it was his right to act like an asshole to her?!

Add that to the reasons why Flo already hated Leo.

“Follow me,” she said, her words sharp. Flo didn’t consider herself _overly _anti-social, but she wasn’t feeling too willing to make an effort when, clearly, this new kid didn’t want to speak.

Wordlessly, Leo followed, hauling his two minimally packed bags up the stairs.

Only when they reached the corridor at the top of the stairs, out of their mother’s hearing range, did Leo speak directly to Flo.

“You don’t have to passively glare at me, y’know.”

“I’m not,” Flo lied, pushing open the door to what was once the _guest _room. “Here. There’s an en-suite, but it doesn’t lock.”

“Cheers,” Leo said, insincerely. And it pissed Flo off even more.

Little did she know that that meeting would be the beginning of a whole whirlwind of arguments.

* * *

The first of those arguments was only that night.

It had just gone 9pm, Leo meeting their foster father. Flo didn’t see him too often; he worked a long distance away, so she was excited to see him. Leo, on the other hand, barely said anything, chewing on his thumb as he avoided all eye contact.

Following that, they ate dinner, mostly in silence. Then, with her parents curled up on the sofa watching a movie, Flo retreated upstairs. Leo had, to no surprise, escaped socialisation a while ago. And Flo assumed he was still in his room.

Until she went down to the kitchen for a drink, looked out into the garden, and saw the smoke rising from the trees at the back, at least.

“Son of a bitch…” Flo cursed under her breath, quickly glancing over her shoulder to make sure her mother hadn’t heard. She was fully aware she had a more… _colourful _vocabulary than most 10-year olds; that could be attributed to her _previous_ relatives.

There were two courses of action here: snitch to her parents and let them deal with him, or undergo the confrontation herself.

Flo wanted a confrontation. So, without hesitation, she silently slipped open the back door, slid on the first pair of shoes she saw, and headed outside. Their garden wasn’t particularly huge, or well-hidden, but there was one shroud of bushes at the end, hiding whoever was behind there from the house’s view.

“Smoking’s bad for you.”

Although knowing it sounded a bit lame, Flo didn’t think of a better conversation starter, and she stepped past the main obstructing tree, leant against the trunk, and laid eyes on Leo. Leo, who was leant against the back fence, with a guilty expression spread across his face, and a newly-lit cigarette dangling from two fingers.

“Go away,” Leo said, lifting the cigarette back to his lips and taking a matter-of-fact drag of smoke. “You’re like 6.”

“I’m 10, idiot!” Flo shrieked, cursing herself internally. “If I leave here, I’m telling mum.”

“Don’t,” Leo spat bitterly. A few moments later, the aggression in his words softened. “Please.”

“Why are you smoking anyway?” Flo wrinkled her nose when the other took a long drag, and exhaled it in her direction. “It’s disgusting.”

“I never asked for your opinion.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Audibly, Leo sighed, rolled his eyes, and tapped the ash off the cigarette, staring down at it. “I was friends with some older kids where I last was. I don’t really care if it’s _unhealthy _or some shit, because I’m not addicted.”

Flo knew he was lying. “Why are you smoking now then?”

“I wanted to,” Leo shrugged, inhaling on the cigarette once again. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“Yes it does!” Flo yelled, “I may not like you yet but we’re living together and acting as _siblings _for the next few years, whether you like it or not!”

“You still don’t need to poke your nose in my business.”

“This isn’t only _your_ business! Not everything is about _you_,” she said, stubbornly folding her arms over, “and if you think I’m going to pretend to be clueless, you’re wrong!”

“What do you want me to do?!” Leo was clearly biting back anger, but the anxiety of getting caught was still spread across his face, evident as before.

“Stop.”

“Not happening,” Leo groaned, “Look, I only smoke, like, one a day. If that.”

“_Fine_,” Flo reluctantly agreed, knowing full-well she was speaking to an addict in denial here. “But don’t get me involved in your stupid habit.”

“Believe me, I won’t.” Sucking the life from the cigarette, Leo proceeded to grind it out against the wall, then pocket the remains. “Besides, you’re the one who came here in the first place.”

Flo paused, watching him walk away with a smug grin.

Never before had her concern for other people been such a _nuisance_.

And over the course of 6 years, things never really got better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! comments welcome as always!


	2. GCSEs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evening after their last GCSE exam, Oz, Alice, Gilbert, Sharon, Reim, Break, Elliot, and Leo gather around a campfire, alone in a field. They talk idly, discussing their A Level choices - some good, some maybe not so good. 
> 
> Then, they dream about the days which would never come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the reason i wrote this was because i'm currently having a crisis about why the actual hecking fuck i ever took physics and i want to project my bad decisions onto Break. so. here. for some context, we finish GCSEs when we're 16 (i finished mine in 2018), August 23rd which Leo mentions is GCSE results day, and we pick A levels a little before starting them. to remind you, Dirty Laundry takes place around March/April/May of their A level year, so this little fic takes place about 18 months before the main story, where they're all (apart from Elliot lmao) aged 16.   
anyways i enjoyed writing in present tense lol. let's play a game: spot the cryptic references made here to the main story!! (hint, there's a lot, but none of them are spoilers; it's all stuff which has been revealed already :))   
for content warnings, please check the tags. 
> 
> (disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts)

Finally, their GCSEs are over.

Their group isn’t one of the big, popular ones. Very few people know them. But they’re all – with an exception or two – very hard working. They pushed through the exams, just barely, and now had a mere couple of months before being thrown back into college, and into A Levels.

There was eight of them, all of whom had been friends for a couple of years now; namely, Oz, Gilbert, Alice, Sharon, Reim, Break, Elliot, and Leo. Albeit, Elliot and Leo had joined their group recently, the two being the only couple in the group – and the others daren’t ask _how _they got together, considering they were total opposites.

Like any group of sixteen-year olds, they’d decided to get together after the last exam, in the evening. And currently, they’re gathered in a field, sitting around a small make-shift campfire.

“I’m surprised you managed to get _this_ much, Xerx,” Reim says, handing out the beers from the bag Break had bought, as his gaze locks on him. “I mean, you have beer, cider, _and _gin. How did you even get this?”

Break gives an ambiguous shrug in response. “I have my ways~”

“That sounds so suspicious,” Oz snickers, crossing his legs over and thanking Reim as he’s passed a beer. When he takes a sip, he screws his face up slightly, but keeps drinking it nonetheless. “I like the new piercing, by the way!”

“It’s nice to know someone does,” Break says, a smirk spreading across his face as he bitterly cocked an eyebrow at Reim. As he takes a large swig of beer, he pointedly fiddles with the newly pierced septum ring. “_Someone _wasn’t too happy, hmm.”

“I wasn’t _unhappy_,” Reim says defensively, sitting back down next to Sharon and passing her a cider. “It merely felt a little impulsive.”

“When it was the first thing you did after leaving the exam today, how can we not see it as impulsive?” Sharon adds, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. “It suits him, though. Flashy, and impulsive.”

“Rude,” Break pouts.

“Ooh! Speaking of the exam!” Oz swiftly moves the conversation along. “How did everyone find it?”

“I thought it was good,” Gilbert answers first, staring at the beer but not drinking from it. He’s never drank alcohol before, and finding out he was a lightweight in a random field next to a fire isn’t exactly on his priority list. “It was better than paper one, at least.”

“I answered exactly three questions!” Alice announces proudly, pressing a fist to her chest, “Physics can go suck it, though. Who cares what I got?!”

“Ah, I’m… not sure that’s _quite _the best attitude,” Oz says, scratching his head for a little. “I thought paper one was easier. Hehe, Maths isn’t my best subject, so Physics is… kinda bad. I hope I get a B, though.”

From beside him, Gilbert smiles. “You will.”

“Today’s paper was easier,” Break says, dragging a hand through his hair, before reaching into the bag of alcohol and pulling out a second beer – _already_. “Paper one had _muuuch _more Maths and theory-based questions. Plus, paper two has the good topics, like space, and waves.”

“Ohh, you’re taking Physics A Level, aren’t you?” Oz says.

Break nods. “Indeed I am.”

“Wait,” Gilbert interjects, “Are you taking Maths too?”

“Nope~”

“We warned him,” Reim points out. “But he insisted on taking Chemistry, and he refused to take Maths. I convinced him to take Sociology. And he wouldn’t take _four_, so… Physics it was.”

“Taking four subjects is practically a _death wish_,” Break chimes, lying back against the grass as he adds under his breath, “Not to mention pointless.”

From beside him, Reim narrows his eyes. “You are aware that there’s more people here taking four subjects than three, right?”

“Hmph.”

There was a brief moment of silence, before anyone speaks again.

“I thought the exam was easy,” Leo announces from across the circle, knocking his head back against Elliot’s shoulder, earning an unamused glare from the other.

“Tch, you think everything is easy,” Elliot scoffs, lightly shoving the other away but not actually trying to push him off. “Smartass.”

“Whatever,” Leo rolls his eyes, and chuckles to himself. “That’s what you can say to my straight A*s on August 23rd.”

“Hey, aren’t you two taking the same options?” Oz immediately sits up.

“Yep,” Leo declares, teasingly brushing a hand through Elliot’s hair. “We’re taking Biology, Lit, Music, and Drama. Just so that I can get exactly one grade higher than Elliot in everything.”

“No, you won’t,” Elliot frowns. “Also, how the fuck are you wearing a jacket in this heat?”

Leo shrugs. “Oz is wearing a jumper. Try interrogate him.”

“Tch, must be a height thing…” Elliot comments under his breath.

“Hey!” Oz yelps from across the fire.

Meanwhile, Leo merely raises an eyebrow, and a fist, before Elliot takes back the comment.

“Hold my beer,” Leo says, unfolding his legs and standing up, brushing away the excess grass from his trousers. “I’m going to piss.”

“So crude…” Elliot grumbles as he walks away. He holds up the beer, then places it down, the frown across his face deepening. “He hasn’t even drunk any of this yet.”

“Aah, Gil, what subjects did you pick again?” Oz – once again – swiftly changes the conversation, exchanging an awkward glance with Reim, as he subtly pulls the sleeves of his jumper over hands. Sure, it’s hot, but for unspoken reasons, he’s not going to take the jumper off. “I remember you had trouble picking.”

“Yeah, I got there in the end,” Gilbert gives a wry chuckle. “Physics, Maths, and Business.”

“Oh, perfect!” Break chimes, “I still get to keep you as my personal, free Maths tutor!”

“Not again…” Gilbert facepalms. “Seriously, if I have to listen to you whine about how you hate Maths and how it _ruins _Physics for another _two years,_ I will literally have a breakdown.”

Wordlessly, Break lies back down again.

“Say, Oz, aren’t you taking four?” Reim asks, sipping on the beer.

“Yeah!” Oz beams, rocking back and forth as he finishes his drink. “Uuh, Biology, Psychology, Sociology, and Business.”

“I’ll see you in Sociology, I guess,” Reim smiles. “I took History, Sociology, Latin, and Law.”

Break snickers, interjecting once again, “I’m surprised you didn’t take the same as Sharon~”

“Xerx, _shh_,” Reim hisses, his face flushing a deep red.

“If you must know the latest update, Reim asked me out again yesterday,” Sharon says. Her words are soft, almost, but with a hint of savageness. “I said no. Besides, it’s unlikely Reim would pick his options because of me. I doubt he’d cope well in Biology, Chemistry, Maths, or Psychology.”

Giving a rather humiliated pout, Reim frowns. “Psychology has essays sometimes…”

“All this talk of subjects is pointless anyways! We’re all just going to grow old, get shitty jobs, eat food, and then die!” Alice exclaims, tossing her empty can of cider aside. “Speaking of which, does anyone have any food?”

Oz facepalms, collapsing against Gilbert’s shoulder. “There’s chicken strips in my bag. And you’re taking A Levels too!”

“Yeah, only ‘cuz my dad said I should!” Alice said, as she rummages through Oz’s bag. “I don’t see the relevance of taking Geography, Drama, and Media, but he bribed me with McDonald’s, so… I don’t care.”

“Are you _seriously _telling me _that’s _going to be in my class…?” Elliot deadpans under his breath, receiving an apologetic glance from Oz. Then, in his peripheral vision, he spots Leo emerging from the cluster of bushes. “That was a long bathroom break.”

Casually, Leo shrugs, and sits down beside Elliot, but doesn’t fall back against him this time. “It was a long piss.”

“Right…”

Silence befalls the campfire for a few minutes. Other than Break distributing new drinks to Alice, Oz, Elliot, and himself, no one moves a muscle, each of them instead mesmerised by the fire.

“Hey.” Oz speaks again. “Do you think we’ll be able to do this again in two years? Like, once we’ve done our A Levels?”

Gilbert cracks a small smile. “I don’t see why not.” He pauses, and the atmosphere seems to change slightly with his next words. “We’ll all still be here, right?”

An equally warm smile spreads across everyone else’s faces, as he says that.

And that was because, as things were back _then_, it was true. However – with time – things changed. Two years after that, it wouldn’t be possible.

Because some of them wouldn’t still be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!! let me know in the comments which hints to the main story you picked up on :) 
> 
> (p.s. that last sentence can mean anything, just saying. could be anything from not being friends to moving away or something more :3 and only i know lmao)


	3. The Night Before Leo's Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before Leo's funeral, the three people who blame themselves the most for Leo's death reflect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so this is kind of like a vent fic, so it's a bit messy, but it was good to write. there was a lot of shit which went one surrounding leo's death, so it's interesting to think about how everyone coped. (or rather, didn't cope). fyi this takes place in the time between chapter 29 and 30.  
content warnings: very strong references to suicide, crying, vomiting, smoking, blaming, drug use, relapse.

The night before Leo’s funeral, Astolfo doesn’t sleep.

It’s been over a month since Leo died. Everything from back then feels like a complete whirlwind of emotions to Astolfo. It’s a blur of memories which don’t seem to fit together. After social services spent a couple of weeks investigating the home, and everything surrounding Leo’s death, his younger siblings were allowed to move back.

It was impossible. They were too young to understand what had really happened. All they understood was that their oldest brother was gone. And whilst all of this was going on, and Astolfo was being questioned and sent to therapy multiple times weekly, he was also doing exams. Sure, they’d contacted the exam boards, explained that a family member had recently passed away, but he was likely only going to get an extra four or so marks added on.

Truth be told, Astolfo was far too numb and empty to know if any of the exams had gone well or not. Everything felt horrible.

And now he’s here, lying on top of his bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this night will ever end.

He feels sick. His hands are shaking. He closes his eyes, and sees Leo’s face.

Deep down, Astolfo knows it isn’t his fault. He knows there was nothing he could’ve done. And yet, he still thinks back to _that night_. He thinks back to the way Leo looked at him, begging him to leave, whilst at the same times, his eyes were pleading the other to stay. Missing that is something Astolfo will never forgive himself.

_He couldn’t have stopped it_, his therapist tells him_. He’d already decided to do it, _Noé tells him. _Leo would’ve done it later if you’d stopped him then, _Vanitas tells him.

Astolfo’s biggest regret, however, is and will always be the fact that he left him alone that night. He left him, believing he’d just go to sleep. And he hates himself beyond belief for it. It’s egotistical, he knows, but that doesn’t stop the gut-wrenching feeling which stirs every time he thinks about it.

It’s been a month, and yet, here he is, sobbing his eyes out. He doesn’t want to wake his mother; she hasn’t had a break since any of this started. She’s feeling horrible, and Astolfo knows she probably blames herself as much as he does. He’s dreading tomorrow. He’s not sure he can even deal with seeing everyone there.

As another hitched sob leaves his lips, Astolfo’s hands turn cold, and his stomach lurches, and all of a sudden, he’s overcome with a sudden feeling of nausea. He barely makes it to the bathroom before he retches, and hangs his head over the toilet, bringing up what little dinner he managed to eat. Tears stream down both of his cheeks, but the gagging doesn’t stop until a couple of minutes later.

For several minutes, Astolfo just cries, so hard he can barely breathe.

The pain he feels is indescribable. He lost his brother, and _over a month later_, he’s still not over this. And yet, he pretends he’s dealing with it, because everyone else is suffering more than him. He was the one who told everyone he hated his brother. He doesn’t have a right to mourn.

Eventually, Astolfo works up the might to haul himself back to his bed. There, he collapses onto it, wrapping himself in his sheets, as his tears soak into the pillow beneath his head.

He stares at the door with tear-filled eyes. Whenever he cried, Leo used to come into his room, and tell him he heard him crying. Astolfo remembers that, and it makes his chest feel even heavier.

Leo never comes.

The night before Leo’s funeral, Elliot doesn’t sleep.

He can’t, and he doesn’t even try. Instead, he sits on his balcony, with a pack of cigarettes he’s sure he’ll have finished by the end of the night and a bottle of expensive wine he may or may not have stolen from his parents. As the time creeps further and further towards midnight, Elliot’s heart begins to ache more and more.

He blames himself. He’s pretty damn sure he’ll never _not _blame himself. And as he lights his fifth cigarette of the night, grimacing at the taste which he’s still not _quite _accustomed to yet, Elliot stares out into the distance, and thinks back to when _it _happens.

The thing he regrets the most is not questioning what was wrong with Leo.

Leo had always had a bad temper. He’s always been violent, and easy to snap – _except _for when something was wrong, like the morning after he first cheated. So when his words were empty, and mellow, despite Elliot telling him terrible, hurtful things – like he _loved him _– Leo didn’t snap. He simply cried, and said he was sorry.

Looking back, Elliot wishes he’d have swallowed his pride, and gone straight to Leo’s house.

He takes another long drag of the cigarette, holding the smoke until he begins to grow light-headed and then exhaling. As he exhales, he tastes _Leo_ on his tongue, and before he can stop it, his eyes begin to feel with tears. He blinks, forcing himself not to cry for the fifth time today, but it’s to no avail.

Through blurry eyes, he reaches across to the table, and picks up his notebook. Slowly, as he inhales more smoke, he flips to the page with his speech.

Elliot isn’t really sure why they asked him to give a speech at Leo’s funeral. Sure, he was probably the closest person to Leo, but he’s not sure he’s right to. Not when he’s the one who left Leo alone. Not when he’s the reason Leo isn’t with them right now.

Part of Elliot _is _still angry at Leo for everything he did. They loved each other deeply – Elliot can’t recall having loved anyone more. Every waking moment, Leo was in the back of his mind. Every tiny thing Leo said or did filled him with millions of emotions, flooding his thoughts. Every time they touched, it felt as though a bolt of electricity passed through him. And then, Leo cheated on him. Just like that.

Yet, Elliot knows he was suffering. The more he thinks about it, the more he realises that, if he’d just shown him how much he cared, maybe Leo wouldn’t have felt the _need _to turn to the comfort of somebody else. There’re things which Elliot never got to tell Leo before he died, and that thought alone causes more tears to flow from his eyes, and before he knows it, he’s having another breakdown. Finally, he’s reached a point where he _knows _Leo is dead. He knows he’s gone. He knows he’ll never have him again. And the _sadness _caused by this can’t be put into words.

With that in mind, Elliot lights another cigarette.

The night before Leo’s funeral, Vanitas doesn’t sleep.

Instead, he relapses.

Relapsing in rehab was too easy. The moment he sweet-talked the therapists into letting him go home, he bought dope. Most of the time, they thought he used it all up. And most of the time, he did. But, sometimes, Vanitas saved some. He saved it for the times when getting clean seemed _too _hard.

Like tonight.

He didn’t have a needle or a lighter, or anything. But that didn’t stop him from digging out the bag of heroin from deep in his belongings – hidden so well that they couldn’t even find it during room searches – and sneaking out of the treatment centre. He doesn’t get very far, though. It’s not worth it.

Instead, Vanitas settles with lying on the lawn, just outside the main block. It’s pitch black at this time, but it’s unlikely he’ll be found right away. Sure, he’ll get in trouble when he goes back, but it’s worth it.

As he opens the bag, under his breath, Vanitas says, “Sorry, Noé.”

Delicately, he tips the powder on his hand. He stares at it, for at least a minute.

It’s stupid. Vanitas know it’s stupid. He’s got so much of his life ahead of him; he knows there’s someone out there who loves him. Yet, he can’t bring himself to care. How does the fact that Noé loves him help him right now?

It doesn’t.

Leo loved him, too. But Leo isn’t there anymore. Leo isn’t there to beg him not to do it. Leo isn’t there to slap the heroin out of his hand and tell him it’s not worth it. He’s not there to tell him _why not to do it_.

Vanitas snorts the heroin.

At first, he feels sick. But after gagging a few times, he thankfully realises he’s not going to throw up this time. Then, the warmness begins to spread from his fingertips and toes to the rest of his body, until the euphoria no longer comes in waves, and is instead constant. It’s like an eternal tranquillity.

With a long, heavy sigh, Vanitas lays back against the grass, tucking his hands behind his head. His vision is already starting to get hazy, but he’s still able to make out the shapes of the stars above him.

In the sky, he sees Leo. And in Leo, he sees himself. In total honesty, Vanitas doesn’t trust himself not to go down the same road. He knows heroin will ruin his life. It already has. He’s pretty sure it’s too late now anyway. Every second of every day, he’s thinking about it. The thought never leaver his head.

He’s trapped. He always will be. With the burden of Leo’s death weighing him down, he knows he’ll never truly be clean.

Vanitas inhales, letting his eyes fall shut. It’s selfish, and he knows it is – what’s more selfish is showing up to Leo’s funeral high tomorrow, but he knows he’ll do it. It’s a small funeral, and he’s not even allowed to go for the full time, because this stupid treatment centre don’t want him to see Noé.

It’s probably for the best, after all. Vanitas knows he doesn’t deserve to show his face there.

With that in mind, he opens his eyes again, and sees some of the lights inside the building switch on. He doesn’t mentally prepare for the inevitable scolding. It doesn’t matter anyway.

When he’s finally high like _this _for the first time in a while, nothing really matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading :)  
if you're reading this then it's a sign that you are loved and worthy and deserving of every positive thing that comes your way. have a good day/night!


End file.
